Thessalonica

“Claudia? I’ll bet you’re right, son,” George answered. Then he stopped and really listened to what Theodore had said. That meant he all but had to kick the plump man out of the way to keep up with his son, but he didn’t care. He didn’t even snarl back when the plump man used several expressions not often heard in church. Theodore had thought along with him as effortlessly and accurately as Irene sometimes did. The boy--no, the young man now--had had a lifetime of practice doing just that, of course, but his lifetime hadn’t been very long, not to George’s way of thinking. The shoemaker suddenly felt more like a grandfather than a father.

Deacons and acolytes and altar boys scurried up and down the aisle, keeping it clear so Bishop Eusebius could advance to the altar. A rising hum of conversation said he was on his way. George craned his neck, but taller people around him kept him from seeing the bishop. Rumor declared Eusebius would say something important this morning, which was why George and his family had come to St. Demetrius’. Rumor, frustratingly, was mute about what the bishop would say.

Celebrating the divine liturgy in a church as splendid as any outside Constantinople was of itself enough to leave George convinced the longer walk than usual had been worth making. But when Bishop Eusebius finally got around to his sermon, more jostling and pushing and shoving started up, with everyone trying to get closer to hear him better.

“My children,” he began, “the vicious barbarians outside our gates still seek to inter Thessalonica in a sarcophagus of their design.” George smiled to himself; Eusebius remained fond of trotting out tombs and coffins. “Thanks to the power of God and of our own holy saint, we have thus far prevented them from achieving their wicked ends.”

The bishop went on, “But our hold on safety is not secure. Far from it! The Slavs and Avars, being ignorant of the power of the one true God, have at their beck and call a host of vile powers, whom they have summoned again and again to try to overwhelm us. They have come too close to success.”

A murmur of agreement ran through the basilica, much of it, George thought, from militiamen. He added his small part to the murmur, whispering to Theodore, “They certainly have.” His son nodded but waved for him to be quiet so they could hear what Eusebius was saying.

George had, to his annoyance, missed a few words. “--so they think we can use our own power, the power of truth and righteousness, only for defense,” the bishop declared. “But, my fellow Christians, I tell you they are mistaken. God not only heals His flock, He curses the wolves who seek to pray upon it. Let us beseech Him to curse the Slavs and Avars, who so plainly need to become acquainted with His wrath.”

Back in Paul’s tavern, George had casually wished a pestilence on the Slavs. He was sure half the people in Thessalonica, likely more, had expressed similar wishes. That was not the sort of thing Bishop Eusebius was talking about. A shiver ran through George. When a bishop formally asked God to bring a curse down on an evildoer’s head, the Lord was likely to deliver.

Eusebius said, “God has granted such prayers before,” echoing George’s thought. The bishop went on, “When Pharaoh of Egypt would not let the children of Israel depart his lands in peace, God visited upon him the Ten Plagues. Did Pharaoh of Egypt oppress the children of Israel more harshly than the khagan of the Avars oppresses the people of Thessalonica? I think not, my children.”

Was Eusebius right? George wondered. The Slavs and Avars had ravaged the countryside and killed and wounded a number of militiamen on the walls, but they hadn’t enslaved the Thessalonicans or forced them to make bricks without straw. And they’d been here for weeks; they hadn’t held the Thessalonicans in bondage for generations. But if the Avars ever broke into Thessalonica, what they would do was liable to be worse than anything Pharaoh had visited upon the Israelites. George gave Eusebius the benefit of the rhetorical doubt.

The bishop went on, “When the wicked Assyrians, who knew God not, besieged Jerusalem, the Lord sent a plague into their camp, so that they had to give over the siege. What He did for Jerusalem, He shall surely be willing to do as well for this famous city of Thessalonica, which, as He has shown, He enfolds under His protecting arm.”

Thessalonica did indeed have a name for being a God-guarded city. And it was more than a name, or Rufus would not have been inspired to warn of the Slavs’ onset. That thought passed through George’s mind in a moment. The one that followed and stayed longer was curiosity about how Benjamin the Jew would have felt, listening to Eusebius going on about miracles worked on behalf of his people, not on behalf of Christians.